


The Dive

by Mildmoons



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 14:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12038142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildmoons/pseuds/Mildmoons
Summary: When the boys go camping, Stan recounts a memory with him and Kyle. That night, they make new memories involving too much whiskey and a cold, unforgiving lake.





	The Dive

“It’s still here.”

Stan turns back to Kyle, smiling. “Wow,” Kyle laughs, “I can’t believe someone hasn’t moved it.”

“Well, it’s kind of far out here.”

Stan kneels to dust the rock off. The surface reads ‘R.I.P. Doe’ in faded black sharpie. “I wonder if her baby is still alive,” he said.

“Oh,” Kyle said, “I don’t know.”

He and Kyle, 12-years-old at the time of her death, had ventured out hunting with his Uncle Jimbo and Ned. Stan had withdrawn from the party in search of a rabbit he’d seen earlier.

Instead, he stumbled upon a doe. She had white fur above her dark nose. Her eyes had just a half-moon of amber against the waterline. When he tried to touch her, she stepped back. Despite knowing she wouldn’t understand, he whispered “I’m not going to hurt you” and kept still. He unzipped his backpack and took out a few apple slices. When he offered them to her, she just looked at him. He threw them to her. She took the gifts. After a few pieces, she stood merely a foot in front of him.

Behind her, a fawn stumbled from the bush and sniffed the air in search of the sweet scent. The doe bent her head to his open palms. Though his small, pink hands stung from the stale air, Stan felt rich with warmth. _She trusts me_ , he thought, _she really, really trusts me._

Mid-bite, her head lifted. Her long ears flicked back and forth, listening. “What do you hear?” Stan asked. He hoped another deer would show—maybe even a buck.

When the doe leveled her eyes with his, he reached out to touch her again.

A bullet whizzed by his fingertips.

The fawn dashed away. Her knees bowed and the doe fell to the snow, blood crowning her head. Some of the contents of her skull were strewn a few feet away.

From the dirt trail trekked Jimbo. Kyle and Ned followed behind. “Wow!” Jimbo exclaimed, “Who knew my nephew was a goddamn deer-charmer. Good work, Stan.” He adjusted his rifle over his shoulder.

Stan took a step back and stumbled over a tree root. Kyle jogged to him, smiling. “Dude!” he exclaimed, “She came right up to you! That was so cool. Too bad the baby got away.”

Kyle helped him to his feet. “You okay?” he asked. Stan’s face was sallow. “I’m fine,” he spat, shaking his head. He turned his back to his Uncle Jimbo and Ned and walked back to the main trail. Kyle followed behind him. “Hey,” Kyle said, “You don’t seem fine, Stan. Hey.”

He yanked him to a halt from his backpack. “Talk to me, dude,” Kyle demanded.

Stan turned to him. He tried to speak but dissolved into a swift, hiccupping cry. Kyle leapt forward to hug him. “Jesus, dude,” he said against his ear, “It’s okay.”

Stan looked over his shoulder at the clearing. “They can’t see you,” Kyle said, “They’re... busy.”

Jimbo set the cadaver onto Ned’s back, but he tripped from the uneven, heavy weight. Kyle looked back at Stan again. “Look, she died right away,” he mumbled, “She didn’t feel anything and... and like I said, her baby got away.”

Stan looked down. All he could see was red. He saw red that soaked the ice and sunk into his boots. He saw empty, lifeless eyes. He saw something die that shouldn’t have. “I betrayed her trust,” Stan confided to Kyle. Looking at him, he swallowed. “I betrayed her.”

Squinty, red eyes became bleary ones again. Before Stan could cry, Kyle held his face and wiped his cheeks with gloved thumbs. He touched his forehead with his. “You’re not the one who shot her,” he said, “Look at me, Stan.”

Moments of silence pass. Snow had started to drift through the dead trees. “She heard us,” he said, “But she didn’t run. She just... stood there.  She knew it was her time. She wasn’t afraid.”

Shivers rattled Stan’s spine. “Let’s go, boys!” Jimbo shouted out, “We’re leaving.”

Both boys looked up. Without anything to say, Stan treaded by Kyle’s side back to Jimbo and Ned.

\--

Kyle and Stan threw their bags down beside Kenny, who sat on a log. Stan undid the tent and started to set it up.

“About time you two got here,” Cartman rolled his eyes, “Did you stop to suck each other’s dicks for a while?”

“Ha-Ha,” Kyle said, turning his attention to Kenny. Kenny blew on a jumble of sticks that cradled a flame. “Eric,” Kenny said behind a thick scarf. He nodded to his bag. “Grab the food.”

By the time the boys set up their campsite, it was dusk. Two tents rested beside the roaring fire. Each year, they chose to camp at the very beginning of fall. The sun would linger and lighten the earth but bring no warmth. Beside them was the cold, frigid lake that formed stretches of ice at night. Behind them were dense, dark woods with tall trees. The boys like the privacy of the off-season.

Kenny fried the ham and eggs. They ate and talked about all the shit they did as kids and handed back and forth a bottle of stolen whiskey. Anything beyond a few feet was hidden in shadows. The sky was starless and the moon was veiled behind a thick swath of black clouds.

Tired, Eric retired to the tent and was followed by Kenny. Stan snuffed the fire and turned to Kyle with tired, stinging eyes. “You ready?” he asked him.

Kyle hesitated for a minute. “Wait,” he said, hand flying out to Stan’s sleeve. “I want to do something.”

“What?” Stan asked, helping Kyle to his feet. Kyle walked to the shore of the lake. Stan followed. “Get a blanket,” Kyle said, “I’m going to do a polar plunge.”

He gave him a tongue-bitten smile with raised eyebrows. Stan, unable to unable to hold a serious frown, smiled back at him and shook his head saying, "you're so fucking dumb, dude." He went back to their tent and reached in to grab two blankets.

When he joined Kyle again, his shirt was off. With his back faced to Stan, Kyle kicked his shoes off and then shook his jeans and briefs down. He was nude. Within minutes, his toes became pink and numb. He looked over his shoulder at Stan. In just the artificial light of the small lantern, he could see his outline and the blankets in his arms. He waved at him.

Kyle looked back at the water. The edges of the lake had solidified. Small, foggy glaciers had drifted towards the middle. Kyle inhaled, closed his eyes, and then ran forward into the water. He dove in head-first, immersing his full form beneath the razor-sharp ripples.

Stan held the lantern in the air. If need be, he could swim out to him. Before Kyle had entered the lake, it was completely still. Now, he could see his head rise from the surface. Kyle swam back to land, climbed out, and shook his curls out.

Stan enfolded Kyle into the blankets and held his thin, quivering body in his arms. Kyle’s chattering teeth clinked beside his ear. “O-Oh my fucking God,” Kyle said, “That was so, _so_ awful.”

They both started to laugh. Stan walked backwards to the tent with Kyle still in his arms. Stan helped him inside, set the lantern down, and then faced away from Kyle while he clothed himself. Now, huddled in layers upon layers of wool socks, pajama pants, and lined long-sleeve shirts, Kyle sighed in relief. His face and thighs stung with the sudden feverish coziness.

The boys lie beside each other, face-to-face. Kyle admitted to Stan that he was right—it was a dumb idea. Stan confessed back that he wished he had the balls to do it with him. They lower their voices to soft, hushed whispers and talk until they make each other yawn.

Kyle reached to turn out the light. Just as Stan settled and closed his eyes, Kyle leaned in and made him flinch from his cold nose gracing his cheek. Kyle stroked a slow, tender hand over his neck and then kissed him. His lips were still chilly. Stan clutched his curls and kissed him back.

Familiarity and comfort swelled in Stan’s stomach like he just arrived home after a long, long car ride. He didn’t have to scope the space to know it. He had traced the shape of Kyle’s lips so many times that kissing him was simply sweet confirmation. Stan parted from his mouth but took him into his arms. Kyle burrowed into the hollow of his collarbones, pecking there.

“Was that okay?” Kyle asked him. Stan touched his chin and kissed him again, both boys tilting their heads and opening mouths for a slow, inviting kiss. They caught their breath together. “Yes,” Stan responded, adjusting onto his back. He reeled Kyle to his chest, welcoming him there so he wouldn’t have to ask. “Thank you,” he added.

“Don’t thank me, weirdo,” Kyle chuckled, “I’ve just kind of wanted to do that for a while.”

“In that case, we’ll have to jump into freezing lakes and drink whiskey _all_ the time,” Stan said.

“Fuck off,” Kyle teased, glancing up at him. He couldn’t see well in the dark, but he could make out his jaw and the bridge of his nose. He touched both. He needed to shave, Kyle noted, as his chin felt prickly. “This feels strange, but—good,” he said.

Stan snatched his hand and kissed his knuckles. “Let’s think about it tomorrow,” he said. Satisfied, Kyle nodded and drifted to sleep. 

\--

“Stan,” Kyle hissed, “Stan. Wake up.”

Stan squint his eyes at him, frowning. “What?” he asked.

“Okay, I have a plan. Kenny is awake. He’s outside. Cartman, however, is not—apparently he took Tylenol PM last night and he’s still out the fuck cold.”

“So?” Stan said. Kyle sat back and smiled, waiting for him to catch on. Stan bit back a sudden, amused smile. “You want to push him into the lake, don’t you?” he said.

With a small, eager laugh, Kyle jumped to unzip the tent. Stan yanked him back and kissed him, Kyle’s body falling relaxed and limp in his arms. He laid him down, hand wandering down his thigh and to his knee, but Kyle shoved him off. “Stan!” he complained, “We _have_ to do this before he wakes up.”

Stan held back a snort as Kyle climbed outside. Stan followed him, sighing. They recruited Kenny and held back the tent flap to look at Cartman. Kyle, Stan and Kenny took hold of the outer edge of his inflatable bed and hauled him outside. Cartman stirred—they all threw their hands up, looking at one another—but he started snoring again.

Stan and Kenny took an edge while Kyle took the other. The other two boys pulled, Kyle pushed. Then, when they were close enough to the water, they all three came to one side and released him off into the calm, motionless lake. He floated a few feet out.

Kyle was the first to lose it. He howled in laughter until he cried and just started all over again when Cartman’s head rose from his damp pillow. By the time Cartman was shaking his fist at them and shrieking some sort of combo of ‘Jew,’ and ‘Fuck’ and ‘Hate you guys,’ Kyle was laying down on a log, weak with aching ribs. Kenny returned to making breakfast, smiling behind his tightened hood.

Kyle’s reaction was funnier to Stan than the prank itself. They watched as Cartman tried to row back with his hands (and failed). When Kyle turned to Stan, teary-eyed and smiling and washed in the yellow light of dawn, he leaned in and told him “I love you.”

Kyle touched his hand. “I love you too, dude,” he whispered. 

**Author's Note:**

> Geez, I haven't posted a fanfic in a years. I'm super stoked to get back into it. I intended just to write the first scene, but I liked it and wanted to continue. Somehow, it ended up becoming more of an exploration of Stan and Kyle's evolving friendship/relationship. 
> 
> (Also-- if you do get the chance to safely feed a deer from your hand, do it! It's such a cool experience.) 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
